Unforeseeable Advent [Open | Intro]

The night had been a dark and bitter one, and Sivvy had spent most of it lurking silently in the shadows of the forest south of the Phoenix Mountains. While it wasn't as cold at the base as it was up in the peaks, Sivvy could feel her metal-based magic's brittleness without even using it. Of all the conditions, the cold was her least favorite, though she'd make due. She always did, for the mission came first.

Initially, upon her arrival in Mountain Village, she'd met up with Amber, her contact. The young mage had been watching people in dark cloaks sneak in and out of the forest. It was a strange thing, since no one ventured into the cold wilderness willingly, and there was little to do out there other than hunt. These strangers weren't hunting, but she noticed some of Mountain Village's hunters had disappeared since the cloaked ones' arrival. Guilt gripped the poor girl. One of them was Amber's father, and perhaps if she'd alerted her village sooner, he wouldn't be missing. It was the village that had raised the money to add the entry to Dies Irae's Blacklist, but Amber insisted on taking point since she had the most information. Sivvy wasn't too fond of adolescents, since in her mind they were still children, and children were irrational, unpredictable, and often times...annoying. Surprisingly, Amber had a very level head on her shoulders. Maybe the slayer would learn a thing or two.

"It's this way," Amber muttered, clad in a thick fur coat from a black animal of some sort. It was a smart choice to keep her hidden in the darkness. They two moved swiftly and silently through the underbrush. Sivvy could tell by her footsteps and posture that she was being trained to hunt as well, which is probably how she knew so much about these dark mages without being caught. They were heading into the area downwind, just as if they were approaching animals that could scent them. And while Sivvy knew very little about these cloaked nuisances, for all she knew they could possibly sense them that way.

However, more likely they would sense her magical power before their smell would reach them, so she took care to keep that concealed. She would have told Amber to do the same, but unless Amber was already concealed hers, the girl possessed no magic. Since it was only a low number of Fioreans that possessed supernatural abilities, it shouldn't be surprising that she didn't, though, from Sivvy's perspective, most people she met seemed to have at least some magic. Then again, she was in a unique environment that drew those exclusively magical in some way, so her perception was understandably skewed.

Bunkering down in a low shelter Amber had constructed from sticks and leaves, their view was pretty clean into the camp at the center of the woods. Amber was using binoculars, but Sivvy didn't need those. With her enhanced sight, she could see everything clearly unaided. "They haven't returned yet," Amber whispered, surveying the numbers milling about a large bonfire at the center of their camp. There was a large, long building built at the south, likely their guildhall, though primitive. In attempts to stay under the radar, they'd attempted to stay as off the grid as possible. It was a smart move since other newer dark guilds liked to get flashy with their halls and deeds to gain notoriety, but the members of Dies Irae endeavored to find all those that planned evil, whether it was open or hidden. Sivvy nodded to the girl, shifting into a more comfortable watching position.

Luckily for Siv, Amber wasn't a talker. From her experiences, spending hours in a stake-out in silence was uncomfortable for most, so they'd try to fill the silence and time with idle small talk. Sivvy was abysmal at small talk, plus too much of it would either be a distraction or reveal them. But in this case, the two watched intently for the bulk of the guild to return to camp. By the time the sun started to cast a glow in the sky, the change in Amber's breathing alerted the pinkette that the girl had fallen asleep. Sivvy couldn't imagine sleeping during a mission, but perhaps it was a good thing. She could hear snapping twigs in the distance, and the guilty Amber could very well get in her way of what she'd be doing next. Also, she knew that such violent scenes would be disturbing for someone with a brain not yet fully formed.

Silently leaving the bunker, Sivvy watched from a more tactful position near the mouth of the camp where the returnees would surely be passing by. Sure enough, a large band of about ten came into view, smart enough to keep their voices low as they congratulated each other on another good night. Slung over their backs were sacks filled with coins and valuables from the sound of it, and behind them trudged fur-clad hunters from the village toting some dead animals. That explained the disappearances. The villagers held hostage were little more than slaves to keep them fed for free while the other members went out to commit crimes. Amber's father was probably among them.

The first logical step appeared to be separating the hostages from the dark mages. Slipping from her hiding place just as the guild member restraining the hunters passed, Sivvy materialized her sword and cleanly severed the rope that tugged them along. "Get out of here!" she barked urgently, and thankfully they dropped their kills and obeyed. If anyone could swiftly get themselves home safely, it was them. Of course, her action drew the immediate attention of their captors, costing her the element of surprise. She'd likely not need it.

If Amber's intel was to be trusted, then most of the guild's members were low-level mages with unremarkable magic. Super speed, the ever common elemental magics, basic requip, and one that could be taken over by a fairy. Honestly, she wasn't sure who was who, since before they could even enact a spell, she had already zipped through the crowd of ten and disabled them. These days she'd been shying away from her most efficient method of evil disposal, the ever-reliable beheading, in hopes of being a better example to her more...enthusiastic members. Instead, they may be simply mortally wounded or be missing their sword arm, but the crystal prisons that came up around their bodies would keep them from bleeding out or moving until she could come back for them.

The members already in the camp were more prepared, but still nothing she couldn't easily deal with. She tossed crystal explosives into the crude huts to run out any sleepers and rammed sharp spikes through the uninhabited ones, dismantling the camp as well as knocking out her enemies and immobilizing them. It seemed she'd wrapped this up in a matter of a couple minutes until she felt a strong rush of magical power from within the longhouse at the back.

He emerged with a violent burst, large shards of clear material that glowed purple tearing the meeting place into shreds and jutting high into the sky like magic skyscrapers. He stood at the base of them, the same material forming over his body like a knight's armor. More of the same formed a sword formed in his hand. "You dare challenge me!?" he roared, striding forward with angry confidence, and Sivvy notably sighed. If he knew how many dark mages uttered this same phrase, he wouldn't think it was as cool as he clearly thought it was. As usual, she'd give none of them the chance for hero-villain banter. It was a waste of time. All the monologues were the same. All that was left to do was decide if he'd be taken dead or alive.

The fight had been surprisingly challenging. He wasn't particularly skilled in fighting, but his magic was strong and carried him. All the strange purple glass was exceptionally sharp and inpenetrable by even her piercing attacks and vicious explosions. After she tested him for about forty-five minutes, which felt like an eternity to fight someone, she noticed he could only have so many constructs out at a time. With his armor and sword, he could only maintain about ten others, which he was using as walls to keep her at a distance and piercing shards to try and kill her. Once he hit that limit, they would all disappear except for what was on his person and there were a couple precious seconds when he could conjure no more. Fighting her window, she teleported into the air behind him, wielding a large, double-bladed ax. Executioner style, the blade swing down at the only area on his body that armor did not cover. His neck.

With that out of the way, she returned to Amber, who was now awake and in shock. She only caught her fight with the guild master, whom she'd never laid eyes on before. She apologized for the hole in her intel, but Sivvy waved it off. "Nevermind that," she said, a small smile appearing on her blood-spattered face. "Your father is waiting for you in town."

---

Exiting the Trophy Room back into the main hall, a short girl with pink hair appeared. She wasn't in her ornate uniform today, preferring the practicality of her black pantsuit for endeavors where she had to do a fair amount of recon before she could get to the meat of the Blacklist entry. It was a slender suit, tailored to her body precisely by the metal threads it was made of, all at her complete control. The slayer always made her own battle garments, since the ones she purchased were precious to her and were so fragile in comparison. Her hair was tied back in a high pony with bangs and whisps left free to frame her soft face. What wasn't soft was the look in her carmine eyes. They were sharp, those of someone who had just come out of an intense battle with a strong mage. Judging by the amount of blood splattered over her suit and visible skin, she'd come out victorious once again. If someone needed any more evidence of this, they could check her new trophy. It was a sword composed of some sort of clear, amethyst mineral that luminesced on its own and was harder and sharper than anything she'd encountered before. All of the magic the dark mage had used was constructed of the stuff. It was a shame he hadn't made it into a collar to protect his neck.

Sivvy paused for a beat in the Throne room, deciding what to do. Normally she'd report straight to Helga in the office to complete the job, but she too caught a whiff of beef and thyme. The Mess Hall was in the East Wing on the way to the offices, so stopping for some food wouldn't be wasting any time. She was positively famished after her strenuous battle, and no one in Dies Irae wanted a hungry Sivvy. She wasn't outright violent or anything, but the more she learned to access her emotions, the more irritation she started to show depending on how long it'd been since she'd eaten. The ambassador was a food consuming machine that definitely had the kitchen crew earning their paychecks. It was like a snake and a black hole had fused into a human girl and was a sight to behold. One would expect it to be messy and disgusting, but she basically inhaled her food at inhuman speed with likewise inhuman grace in inhuman quantities. Many members would deliberately stay behind at lunch and dinner just to witness it. Sivvy didn't notice, of course.

The issue was, in addition to the smell of dinner, she smelled someone unfamiliar in the hall. Her duties always came first and it seemed she had someone to greet. Stepping up to the much taller and paler man, she extended a hand after wiping it clean of blood. "Welcome. I'm Sivvy, Ambassador of Dies Irae. Are you just visiting or do you have business with us today?" she asked in a cool, stoic tone. A polite smile appeared on her mouth, and while she didn't seem icy, she wasn't exactly brimming with warmth either. She was just neutral. Professional. It definitely hid her intense curiosity concerning his eyes. Black scleras, like Johann and Mars and Artemis and Zaebros. Was there a connection? Did this guy have a demon of some sort, too?

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Sivvy's smile widened just slightly as she observed his bewilderment. It was amusing. How did he end up here on the island if he didn't mean to come here? Even more amusing was his split-second decision on joining the guild he hadn't even meant to visit. This was an interesting character to be sure. She was not yet convinced he was a good fit, since Dies Irae had strict expectations to adhere to, but it was her job to find out. Sivvy never assumed anything about anything if she could help it.

The pinkette had been just about to inform him that it would take more than a signature on a form to be admitted when he derailed himself. Normally this might have frustrated her, but what had caught his attention was the same scent that drew her attention as well. Food. Sivvy loved food more than anything in this world, so as soon as he mentioned it, she was on board. "Visitors can eat here as well, and I promise you I won't be admitting you to the guild just so you can eat. We'll worry about the cost later, once we figure out your status. First, let's go eat," the clone said eagerly, wasting no time strutting off into the East Wing, motioning for him to follow.

Leading him a ways down the hall, it would become clear that this was the wing of the palace that held all the activity for the guild. There were rec rooms, lounges, an extensive library, offices, and her favorite place, the Mess Hall. It was state of the art and massive, somewhat cafeteria like in layout and seating, but with food that was to die for. They had a small army of cooks that could make anything and everything, and in large enough quantities to feel Sivvy and Johann (the two main offenders of insane consumption), and somehow the rest of the guild and its visitors too. They were certainly worth what they were paid, even if they were a little grumpy because of the hard work.

"After you, Cross Waltz," Sivvy said, allowing her guest to go first, not out of courtesy, but so she wouldn't have to worry about leaving him any food in the heated trays. He'd better hurry, though. She already had her plate and when it came to food, she had even less patience than usual.

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Sivvy's polite smile shrunk just the slightest bit as the other pinkette joined in her conversation with the newcomer. Illya Pegasus, the guild's most disciplined member. Whether it was getting everyone's titles wrong or her unsanctioned methods of dealing with dark mages, Illya was well known to all the staff in the guild. It wouldn't surprise her if every member had run into her at some point, given how much she loved to socialize. It was horribly inefficient to talk so much, but Sivvy had little control over that, as much as she wished she could order the woman to think more carefully so her words would be more concise. Though it grated on her, Sivvy had quickly learned to adapt to more recent emotional developments like annoyance, and if she viewed dealing with the idol like training for her patience, it was bearable.

If Cross was worried about being judged for his plate, he need only look at what Sivvy had been up to. She had a large tray with several plates stacked just as high if not higher than the newbie's edible tower. One wouldn't think someone with such a small frame would be able to eat this much, but it seemed as if either Sivvy had a pocket dimension in her stomach or her entire body was hollow. In reality, her body was deceptively well trained and inhumanly strong, and those muscles sucked all the energy and nutrients right up without depositing a single ounce of fat. That probably attributed to her rather small chest, but Sivvy didn't care about those types of things. As long as her body functioned like the well-oiled machine it was intended to be, she had no cause for concern. Besides, she was a highly active individual, so even if her body didn't run at peak performance, her rigorous and frankly insane training regimens would keep her in shape.

Letting the two talk since she wasn't much of a talker while eating unless among her closest friends or being directly spoken to, Sivvy proceeded to devour her food with unnatural grace despite the speed and size of her bites. Lasagna, pork chops, fragrant soups, fries, crab cakes, it didn't matter what was on her plate (which was several of everything), it went down the hatch. The Ambassador had yet to encounter an edible thing she didn't like, and being a metal dragon slayer, not even the cutlery was particularly safe from her teeth. However, her motions were so fluid and efficient, she only bit the fork when she wanted to, which wasn't often since the kitchen staff frowned upon losing utensils. Once she was spoken to once more, Sivvy paused her feast just before she started in on the double chocolate fudge supreme cake.

"You have no need of a resume," she responded, fingers fidgeting at the edge of her dessert plate. The clone desperately wanted to save the rest of this conversation for after she consumed her three pieces of cake, but her professional nature always overrode her impulses. "You just need to convince me you can uphold Dies Irae's core principles. Discipline," she paused to shoot a small glance at Illya, "order, honor, and strength are our most valued virtues. Our moral code is top priority for achieving our goal of making Earthland a better place for everyone. We're a legal guild, so we won't accept any dark mages. You aren't a criminal, are you?" Sivvy asked, though her tone was neutral and devoid of any accusations. She merely wanted to make sure, since he made it clear he arrived here by accident. Since he hadn't sought Dies Irae out on purpose, she could assume nothing about his character or his convictions.

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